Leigh Bale - Wildfire Sweethearts

Well, no sense standing here gawking. Hotshots were people of action. It could always be worse. At least it wasn’t raining. And while the spring weather was unseasonably warm, it could be a whole lot hotter, too.

She popped the hood to the engine then jumped back as she was engulfed in a cloud of smoke. She couldn’t tell where it came from and wondered if the truck had overheated, or if it had a more serious issue.

Reaching into the pocket of her blue jeans, she pulled out her cell phone and entered her security number. A huff of impatience whooshed from her throat. No connectivity out here in the middle of nowhere. She’d have to wait for someone to come along. Which could take hours.

So much for her plans to arrive in Minoa early enough to unpack and settle into her furnished apartment before driving thirty miles to Carson City to return the mover’s trailer. Minoa was too small a town to have a truck rental business. As long as she turned the trailer in by tomorrow night at seven o’clock, she wouldn’t have to pay any late fees. But she’d be in deep kimchi if she didn’t report for her first day back at work tomorrow morning.

Leaving the hood up to signal for help, she climbed inside the truck and lowered the windows to catch the mild breeze blowing across the Nevada desert. She stared out her windshield, wishing she had a book to read. Reaching for the water bottle she’d stowed in the cup holder an hour earlier, she popped the lid and took a deep swallow before setting the bottle aside.

She had just dozed off when the low thrum of an approaching vehicle brought her back to the present. A shiny blue pickup truck pulled up behind her. In the side mirror, she caught the flash of a tall, well-built man getting out and walking toward her. Dressed in faded blue jeans, his long legs moved in a self-assured stride. But something familiar about that muscular physique caused her to narrow her eyes.

No, it couldn’t be.

Her pulse sped up into double-time, her breath rushing out in a lung-squeezing sigh. A warm, tingly sensation flowed over her as she tilted her head to get a better look in her rearview mirror.

“Oh, no.” She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel and groaned.

Sean Nash. Her ex-fiancé. Except for her brother, he was the only man she’d ever loved. Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d loved her father once, before he’d abandoned her family when she was only seven years old. But that was so long ago that she barely remembered him.

Standing beside her door, Sean angled his face toward her and flashed a dimpled smile. A smile that still turned her brains to mush.

“Hi, there. I didn’t expect to meet you all the way out here in the middle of nowhere.” His voice sounded low and reserved. No doubt he was surprised to see her, too.

“Likewise,” she said, wondering what he was doing here.

“Looks like you’ve got some car trouble,” he said.

Morning sunlight sprayed across his too-broad shoulders, highlighting his short, curly hair. He shifted his weight in a careless, confident stance that told her he knew how to handle himself in any situation. Except she knew that wasn’t true.

A lance of anger speared her, but she ignored it. He’d always been in charge. Always demanding the best out of his crew. So calm under pressure. Never needing anyone. Not even God. But when she thought of how their relationship had fallen apart, she didn’t know how Sean could act so cool and remote around her. Not when her entire body was trembling with emotion.

“Something’s the matter with the engine,” she said.

Warring sentiments fogged her brain. Relief, anger and sorrow. She wrestled to make sense of it all and tried to maintain her composure. After all, he’d been the one to break off their engagement. The day after her brother’s funeral, he’d taken her for a quiet ride in his truck. He’d parked beneath the shade of an elm tree on the outskirts of town and stared out the window as he’d told her that he didn’t want to marry her anymore. She knew he was hurting over Zach’s death. They both were. But she thought they could comfort one another. Unfortunately, he didn’t see it that way. He’d suffered smoke inhalation, torn ligaments, shock and second-degree burns. They’d postponed the funeral until he was released from the hospital. In the chaos of comforting her distraught mother, nursing her own grief and making burial arrangements, Tessa had spent long hours sitting by Sean’s bedside. But the day after the funeral, he had told her that his change of heart had nothing to do with Zach. That his priorities had simply changed and he wanted to move on. His plans no longer included her.

We’re not right for each other. I don’t want to marry you now.

The sting of those words still haunted her, like a sliver lodged in her heart. He didn’t want her anymore.

Unfortunately, she was now stranded and needed Sean’s help. She couldn’t see his eyes through his dark sunglasses. She hated when he wore them because she couldn’t read the emotions on his face. A face she knew as well as her own. The high forehead, saber-sharp cheekbones, stubborn chin and translucent blue eyes that pierced her to the core every time he looked at her. Handsome, with a careless smile that could scorch her toes to ash. But something was different about him. Something that hadn’t been there before Zach’s death. Something she couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Wearing a white T-shirt and boots, Sean still looked lean, strong and ready for action. Considering they both fought wildfires for a living and he’d been a squad leader on her crew last season, she figured he was dressed appropriately. It suited his personality. Rugged and masculine. Always prepared. Always in control.

Until the day Zach had died.

Sean stepped back as she opened the door. She climbed out, trying not to look at him. Trying not to let his presence undermine her composure. He was the last person she’d expected to see on this deserted road. Unfortunately, this was the main road heading from Ely to Reno. The only road, unless she wanted to drive on dirt and go four-wheeling.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” she asked, catching his scent. A subtle mixture of spicy cologne and licorice candy.

He gave a lazy shrug. “Driving to Minoa, the same as you.”

“After last fire season, I thought you were planning to move to Idaho. You said you were putting in on a fire control management job in Boise,” she said.

“No, I decided to wait a bit longer.”

Wait for what? The job had surely closed by now and he’d lost his window of opportunity. Frankly, she doubted he’d like being cooped up in a stuffy office anyway. He’d always preferred working out in the field, where the action was.

“So, you’ve been living in Minoa since last summer?”

Most hotshots like her were seasonal employees, working April through August. But Sean had been a permanent hire with benefits, working twelve months out of the year.

“Yeah, I took a short leave of absence from work, but I’ve been back for five months now. Why?” A thatch of curly black hair fell over his high forehead. Hair she used to thread her fingers through.

“Where have you been? Today, I mean, since you’re out here on this road.” It was too much of a coincidence that he happened to come upon her on this lonely highway, wasn’t it?

“At a training exercise in Utah.”

Hmm. She wondered if one of their mutual friends had told him that she’d be traveling this road today.

After all that had happened, she couldn’t believe he still wanted to fight wildfire. But it seemed to be in his blood. He was good at it, too. None better. An adrenaline junkie who thrived on the action. With no family of his own, he had nothing to lose. A man who acted first and thought about the dangers later.